Authors: L. K. Rigel
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Mythology & Folk Tales, #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Fantasy, #Paranormal & Urban, #Sword & Sorcery, #Fairy Tales, #Mythology, #Arthurian
How strange, Igraine thought, to think of Velyn alive during the time of Merlyn. He looked thirty at most, but he’d always just
been there,
like the mist, like the apple trees.
“Maxim worked hard to win everyone’s respect and admiration. In the end, he won their begrudging tolerance.”
“Tolerance. An insult, I’d think. To him.”
“Very good, Igraine,” Kaelyn said. “He’s a prideful goblin. He left us when Idris imprisoned his sister in a cruel device, a fae glimmer glass.”
“But that’s…”
“An abomination,” Kaelyn said. “Another remnant of Merlyn’s meddling where he should not. He created the mirror for Idris and exchanged it for a bit of fairy magic. In his arrogance, Merlyn believed no fairy would ever be able to animate a glimmer glass.”
“But Idris succeeded.”
“He used Maxim’s sister, Boadicea. Imprisoned her within the mirror.”
Boadicea!
“The poor gob won’t return to Avalos. He stays in the faewood now, at the fae court near Boadicea. In his heart I believe he longs for his goblin home in the vale.”
Boadicea.
Igraine could barely stand to keep quiet about it. She’d only just met her first goblin, and it turns out she’s fated to save his sister?
How in Sun and Moon’s name could that be?
Kaelyn wouldn’t tell. Igraine knew that much. Indeed, it would distress the old woman to know Igraine had overheard so much. And yet she’d all but told Igraine everything just now.
Right. Igraine scoffed and shook her head. She’d just been given one of Kaelyn’s oblique lessons.
“Poor Maxim.” Kaelyn leaned against her pillows, suddenly looking tired and disoriented. She smiled at Igraine, and her eyes lit up. “Oh, my dear. I wanted to tell you something… to give you something. There, on the table. It’s called a scoping glass.”
“Yes, you already told—”
“Velyn finagled it from Captain Raymond.” Kaelyn jabbed her first finger repeatedly toward the object. “You must have it, Igraine. Take it. It’s yours. I have seen it.”
“Now you’re toying with me, old woman.” To calm her, Igraine picked up the glass. “Get some rest. Sleep awhile.”
She kissed her mentor on the forehead and turned to go, but Kaelyn grasped her wrist.
“You did set a boundary when Maxim came for us, yes?”
Igraine had to think about it.
“Your own boundary, Igraine. At the cave.” Kaelyn’s fingers dug into her skin.
“Oh. Yes. Yes, I did,” she said. “Our castle is doubly protected. No one will storm its gates.”
“Good, good. Mustn’t let Idris see.” Kaelyn fell back and closed her eyes. “Mustn’t let Elyse see… Good, good.” She let go of her grip on Igraine.
“What do you mean, old woman? Do you know Elyse? Let her see what?”
The only answer was a ragged snore, badly faked.
« Chapter 15 »
Igraine’s Altered Eye
Igraine left Kaelyn to pretend to sleep in peace. But once the old woman had rested, some answers had better be forthcoming.
In a fog of bewilderment, Igraine walked until she found herself at the edge of the lake. What did Kaelyn have to do with the fae Idris… or the faeling Elyse? There was something… something in her mind about Elyse, about Glimmer Cottage, but the more Igraine tried to think of it, the more it eluded her mental grasp.
Remember, remember…
Remember what?
It was gone. There was nothing to do now but stop trying so hard and wait for it to come back of its own accord. Something would trigger the memory.
She came to the bridge over the lake and went on. She had no idea what to say to the goblin, but she couldn’t stop thinking about his sister and felt compelled to seek him out. She crossed the bridge to the monument and found him sitting on the wooden bench that faced the stone.
“It has a name.” Igraine sat down beside the goblin. “
Mistcutter,
the Sword of Mist and Rain.”
By his reaction, he knew the name already. No surprise. She looked away, nervously playing with the scoping glass.
“May I see that?” The goblin took the brass tube from her hands. He didn’t look through the device but examined its construction, turning it and running his fingers over the metal. He took a cutting instrument out of a pouch that hung from his belt. The blade caught the sunlight and glinted. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” She shook her head, though she had no idea what he intended to do.
With deft fingers making quick, strong strokes, he began to etch delicate cuts in the brass, making it glitter as if bejeweled. As intricate as the work appeared, he worked absent-mindedly, as if his hands had just wanted something to do. His eyes were on the marble stone which held the sword.
For all the goblin’s confidence and brusque manner, there was a quiet sadness within him, and Igraine felt the urge to cheer him up.
“They say this sword was forged by the greatest goblin who ever lived.”
“Huh.”
It was something between a scoff and a grunt. The corners of his goblin mouth turned down—even farther down—and amusement flickered over his face.
“Brother Sun and Sister Moon,” Igraine said. “Was it you? Did you forge
Mistcutter
?”
He squinted at her, and she knew she’d guessed rightly. She burned to know more, but he wouldn’t tell her anything. Goblins were notoriously private creatures. They did what they did and said what they said for their own goblin reasons.
But she kept quiet and hoped. Maybe he’d tell her on account she would free Boadicea one day. However impossible that seemed.
“I was a young and idealistic treesap,” he said.
Yes!
“A human—a wyrding man, the mage Merlyn—came to me in the Blue Vale and flattered my ego and convinced me to make the sword.”
“Merlyn isn’t spoken of kindly at Avalos.” To say the least. Kaelyn and Zoelyn both called him a charlatan and cursed his memory. After today, Igraine had a better understanding why.
“He was a self-important meddler. He played with people’s lives as if they were dolls, but I didn’t know that then. And who am I to talk? I let him flatter my own self-importance. My vanity. He said he had the sight, and that I’d be a greater gob than Vulsier ever could be. In those days, I worshiped Vulsier—um, of course I still hold him in the highest esteem.”
Igraine had no idea who Vulsier was, but Maxim’s mention of the sight hung in the air between them. She felt he could tell from her face that she knew about Boadicea.
“Merlyn filled my head with notions of glory,” the goblin went on. “He said the sword would serve the will of the high gods.”
“And did it?”
“I… don’t think so.” He laughed ruefully. “Maybe. I’d like to believe so. But such a weapon is too dangerous for the mundane world. I couldn’t make myself destroy it, so I brought it here to Merlyn’s sister, Morwenna. She was abbess of Avalos in those times. I begged her to hold it in safekeeping. She rendered the sword in this marble stone, away from the world.”
“Ah, I see,” Igraine said. “Like
Excalibur
.”
“
Excalibur
was but a shadow of… of this.”
“A shadow the knights of Dumnos believed in.”
“Just so. Velyn forged and Morwenna wyrded
Excalibur
using this sword as a template. When Artros pulled
Excalibur
from its stone, the knights of Dumnos believed it was the same weapon Utros Pendragon had used to pierce the impregnable wards on Tintagos Castle and take possession of his Igraine.”
Igraine’s cheeks warmed. Kaelyn had once told her:
You’re named for Igraine, who inspired a desire even the high gods couldn’t deny.
“
Excalibur
was dangerous because men believed it could do terrible things,” Maxim said. “But this sword actually
can
do them.”
“And do you know… is
Excalibur
truly kept by the Lady of Nine Hazel Lake?”
The goblin nodded. “Morwenna felt the weapons should be kept apart.”
The sword. The weapon.
He wouldn’t call
Mistcutter
by its name.
“It’s said that in all the wide, wide world only one person can draw
Mistcutter
from the stone,” Igraine said. “I’ll wager you’re the one.”
“I’m not the one.”
Why, Igraine?
The very name of the sword affected him like a blow.
Why must you speak before you think?
“What if you needed it?” she said. “What if there was a goblin emergency and only
Mistcutter
could save the day?”
Maxim raised an eyebrow. “Goblin emergency.” His grimace moved closer toward a real smile, if a sad one. “Creating the sword was a sin against the high gods. When I saw it in action, it was worse than blasphemy. I never want to hold…
it
… again.”
Igraine had heard of goblin honor. Here was a goblin brought low, who admitted to sins against Brother Sun and Sister Moon, yet he clung to his honor.
“Who is the one then?” she said. “Your archenemy, I imagine. Is that why you’ve hidden
Mistcutter
here on Avalos?”
“You’re full of questions.”
“I don’t mean to be rude. I… it’s just that I’ve never met a goblin before. I’ve never met
any
fae before. There’s so much to learn.”
“I’ve never met a girl so eager to know.”
“I’m not a girl. I’m twenty-three.” Suddenly she was embarrassed. To a goblin she must seem very young indeed—especially one who’d been alive at the time of the Pendragon. “How old are
you
, Maxim—if it’s not too rude to ask?”
“Oh, hundreds and hundreds of years. And hundreds more than that. I’m not sure how many. But I was born, not fallen, so I’m not among the eldest.”
Born, not fallen.
What did that even mean? She started to ask but sensed that really would be pressing it. Instead she said, “Is the one a goblin too, the one who can take the sword from the stone?”
“That only Kaelyn knows. And she isn’t telling.”
“Kaelyn again,” Igraine said. “I had no idea she was so…”
“Wonderful?” Maxim stood up and glanced toward the bridge, returning the scoping glass.
“Thank you.” Igraine couldn’t be sure without standing herself, but he seemed taller than before.
“I should go,” he said. “Velyn wanted to treat Mavis with some Avalos apples. She’ll think she’s too fine to pull a cart.”
He turned away from
Mistcutter
with no formal leave-taking, no act of reverence. He just walked away, swaying from side to side with a halting gait, his forward progress made with plodding deliberation.
Igraine’s heart compressed a little for the wretched creature. There was no joy in him. More than anything, she wanted to learn how to save his sister.
“I’m so glad we met!” She caught up with him. “Thank you for talking with me. I know the fae don’t like the wyrd very much.”
“Hmph. Goblinkind live by goblin rule,” Maxim said. “And I live by Max rule.”
“I believe you, sir goblin.”
He smiled. She couldn’t tell if he thought her respectful or hopelessly earnest—and young.
They found Mavis hitched to her little wagon. Velyn was loading a second barrel of apples into the back. Maxim whispered in the pony’s ear, then sprightly climbed up to the driver’s bench, reins in hand.
“Now there, Mavis, let’s go girl.” The cart began to roll.
“Good-bye!” Igraine said.
Maxim nodded as he and Mavis were enveloped in shimmering light. The air around the cart seemed to bend, and then cart, pony, and goblin were gone.
“At last, we’re alone.” Velyn slipped his strong arms around Igraine’s waist and kissed the top of her head. He lifted a lock of her hair and turned it so the apple blossoms glimmered in the sunlight. “Very pretty.”
She leaned back against his chest and traced the Christian cross tattoo on his left forearm. She wanted to be with him—at least, her body did—but something felt off in her desire.
“I haven’t seen Wennie since I was in peregrine,” she said. “I should go find her and let her see that I didn’t get stuck.”
“You can’t,” Velyn said. “Yesterday I took her up to Fallen for the week. More birthday celebrations. I left her there and came back this morning.”
“Ah, so that’s how the loot from the
Vengeance
got here.”
Velyn took the scoping glass from Igraine’s hand. “And what’s my gift to Kaelyn doing here? Wait a minute.” He held it up. A spray of etched apple blossoms covered the brass casing, dazzling in the sunlight. “I see it was meant for you all along.”
Igraine went back to her cottage alone. She was tired, still physically wrenched from her transmogrification—and possibly the goblin transport too. A nap would be nice, and then later she’d go check on Kaelyn.
She hung her silk mantle and laid the scoping glass and apple blossoms on her dressing table. As she was brushing her hair, there was a knock on her door.
“You! But how—”
The fisher king crossed her threshold and put his finger on her lips.